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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25781569">Assorted Memories of a Family in Greendale</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ateliertamsin/pseuds/ateliertamsin'>ateliertamsin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Chilling Adventures of Sabrina - Sarah Rees Brennan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>( mary's parents are stated as deceased in the books ), Canonical Character Death, Family, Gen, Mary and her Mother, Short reflections on Mary's life, since i had a lot of thoughts on her mother</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:40:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25781569</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ateliertamsin/pseuds/ateliertamsin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>No one new comes to Greendale, they thought. And no one from Greendale wanted to stay.</p><p>A short recollection of Mary Wardwell, her return to Greendale, and her relationship with her mother.</p><p>-- </p><p>Text and Podfic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Assorted Memories of a Family in Greendale</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Apologies! I need to fix the podfic title on the audio! It is still the same story, I'd just realized I wanted a different story title when I got to Ao3. I'll fix it soon!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</div><p>Evelyn Anne Wardwell wasn't from Greendale. No one new comes to Greendale, they thought. But Evelyn did. Because Evelyn Anne Wilson married John Wardwell and moved to Greendale after college.</p><p>They were older when they had Mary, and already, she and John had a reputation.</p><p>She was a fair person -- highly intelligent, and highly regarded. Locally famous for being kind, above all else. Evelyn was known in the church for bringing the best sweets. Cookies and cakes and pies... all the things that Mary craved to learn how to bake.</p><p>The only recipe that mary has fully mastered is vanilla almond cookies. Vanilla is the secret recipe. Every other recipe is on an in-progress list... and probably would be forever.</p><p>Evelyn wasn't always the most healthy person. She had a weak heart, they said. But Evelyn did everything she could to make Mary feel loved. She tried to give Mary a sense of control over the situation, as Mary felt a bit lost.</p><p>Little superstitions. little charms and magic. knocking on windows and doors. Herbs in her meals. All the little spells that Mary hoped would be magic. </p><p>Mary still longs to believe in magic. There was faith, Mary had, in two things. </p><p>Her religion, and small miracles. </p><p>Her belief in small miracles dwindled in her final years of high school when her mother got sick again.</p><p>No one new comes to Greendale, they thought. And no one from Greendale wanted to stay.</p><p>Evelyn told Mary that it was probably best to go away to college, instead of north Greendale -- </p><p>Mary didn't really want to go, and when Evelyn got sick again and again -- Evelyn tried to get Mary to stay put in the city.</p><p>But Mary wasn't going to do that.</p><p>She came home.</p><p>Every day, Mary tried to get her mother to rest. But... what a silly thought. </p><p>Mary inherited her stubbornness from her mother -- Her eyes, her intelligence, and her willpower.</p><p>John said it was infuriating.</p><p>Here are the things Mary remembers about her mother in those last days:</p>
<ol>
<li>Evelyn’s flowers must be taken care of. Her garden must remain immaculate. </li>
<li>Evelyn’s cookbooks must be preserved. No one else was allowed to read the annotations on the recipes except for family.</li>
<li>Evelyn had to have lilies at her funeral. Simply to spite her own mother, who was allergic, and</li>
<li>Evelyn loved Mary very much.</li>
</ol><p>Evelyn loved her kitchen. Mary wished she could have kept the house, but it wasn't a financially sound decision. </p><p>The stained glass window that always lit Evelyn’s kitchen was one of the most memorable things about her old house. </p><p>Mary taped up thin paper flowers on her own kitchen window in memory. Knocked on them delicately when she could -- remembrance.</p><p>Tiny rituals. </p><p>Just in case.</p><p>One of the last good days, Mary sat, swinging her legs at the kitchen table. She's 19 now. </p><p>And Evelyn comes in to ask her if she's busy. Mary was studying, but she says her exams could wait.</p><p>Mary would do anything in these uncontrollable times. </p><p>And in the small space, the windows open, stained glass reflected and refracted across their kitchen table -- they make almond cookies. </p><p>Laughing, flour tapped on noses. Sugar taken and eaten by the spoonful... because Evelyn would have never permitted it otherwise.</p><p>"Do you think you'll be lonely?"</p><p>Mary was always lonely. By this point, her father was ailing as well. Flu, this time. because... he'd run the pharmacy. The sundries store. And because his wife was sick, he'd gone across the town in the pouring rain for more supplies.</p><p>"He says it's the flu, but it's likely pneumonia," Evelyn mutters, tossing flour into the mix.</p><p>It's a good day. </p><p>And perhaps, Mary thinks, it wouldn't be so bad for this to be the last memory.</p><p>Evelyn passes a few days later. Her father helps her with the funeral arrangements, before his time as well.</p><p>Mary sits, swinging her legs at the kitchen table, going over the will -- she doesn't like lawyers. Nothing against them, but they were a little scary.</p><p>She doesn't really want the money she's left. Or the house. But her mother's pearls... she likes those. They felt... warm against her neck. Somehow. Always. </p><p>Like a small hug. Like when Mary would stand on the table, even if John didn't like it, and Evelyn would hug her softly around the neck, fluffing her hair as well.</p><p>Mary inherited the house but sold it. She couldn't keep it up. The pharmacy went to John's business partner. And Mary ended up buying a house in the woods. </p><p>Evelyn had liked the cottage. Pointed to it on long walks, told Mary it was haunted. It was haunted, so no one bought it.</p><p>"Well, mother. I suppose I did."</p><p>Mary's first thoughts as she passes the threshold.</p><p>"Maybe if it's haunted, I won't really be alone," she murmurs, unpacking the things she has. </p><p>She'd inherited too much furniture, too. </p><p>She sets it up as best she can. Tapes everything she wants to the kitchen window. Makes the place home. </p><p>Makes small shrines in places she didn't know she would.</p><p>There were two ways to honour her mother. </p><p>The cross above the mantel... something from the Wilson family. It felt right, as simple as it was.</p><p>And the kitchen -- of all places.</p><p>Because there were two things that Evelyn believed in.</p><p>Religion and home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you'd enjoyed! I actually, somehow, very much love writing non-canonical characters that make -- perhaps -- one appearance or so. Perhaps only mentioned? Mary's mother and father had both been stated to have died in her first year of university, and I'd wanted to explore that. Especially with some new fics that I'd planned to write soon.</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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